Cry For Me
by Temperance Isaack
Summary: It's been a year since Maura's niece, Daryl, was attacked, and just as Maura is revealing her feelings for Jane, the body of a young woman is found shot in the head, her young son clinging to her arm. Angela takes guardianship of the boy while Jane and Maura try to find out who he is. RIZZLES. SEQUEL TO "THE CURSE OF NOT KNOWING".
1. Chapter 1

His mother is cold. Her face is pale, with a small trickle of blood falling from her lip and dribbling across her cheek. "Mommy?" his mommy doesn't respond. Her hands are stiff against his small ones. Why'd that man do this? Why'd he take mommy? The boy can't do anything but sit next to her and cry.

Cold grass crunches as she sits upon it. Her niece sits beside her, a hot coffee in hand and a smirk on her face as she watches people passing by. It's been over a year since the attack, and Daryl is seemingly unfazed. But Maura knows that all is not well in that pretty little head. How funny she should think that, seeing as how Daryl looks almost exactly like her aunt. Maura sighs like a woman with a secret.

"Aunt Maura," says Daryl, sipping her espresso, "how do you feel about Detective Rizzoli? Do I hear wedding bells in the near distant future?"

Maura scoffs a laugh. "Oh, no, Frankie is just a fri—"

"I wasn't talking about that Rizzoli, Maur, and you know it. You're in love with Jane."

Maura stares at her niece, dumbstruck. Daryl giggles. "I have a really strong gay-dar, Maur." She lies back against the grass, her curly black hair falling around her like charcoal snow. She's grown to love her newly discovered Aunt Maura, and Maura found a place to divulge all of her darkest secrets, like the fact that she dyes her hair. But that secret was something Maura had buried away long ago.

"Jane is straight, Daryl," Maura stumbles upon the words as if speaking a foreign language.

"No, she's no-ot," Daryl singsongs, grinning impishly and wiggling her eyebrows.

Maura can't imagine her niece being right. Jane was in love with someone who was emotionally unavailable, which had caused her great turmoil. It couldn't be Maura because: 1) Jane is STRAIGHT. 2) Maura had given as many clues as she knew how to. If it was her that Jane was in love with, Jane would have caught them. "You're going to have leaves in your hair."

Daryl shrugs and just makes "leaf angels". Maura laughs, watching her. Daryl is the closest thing Maura has to a daughter, sharing half of Maura's DNA. "Anyway, Maura, you're not changing the subject that easily. You're in love with Jane."

"Even so, she's straight. I'm straight. I'm straight, Daryl."

Daryl sighs. "I won't tell. I mean…I managed to stay in the closet until I was…12. But, I'm really good at keeping secrets that aren't my own. Plus, you sound like you're trying to convince yourself more than you are me."

"Okay, you're right. Are you happy now? I'm gay. I'm a lesbian. Yay!" she throws her hands down in defeat. "And I'm in love with Jane. I have been since I first saw her."

The younger woman nods knowingly and sits up. "I know the feeling. That's how I feel about Jade. It took me years to ask her out. And once I did, it was like such a relief to know she felt the same…"

"But," says Maura, "things are not like that for Jane and me. "

"They could be."

Maura's phone rings and she picks it up. "This is Doctor Isles."


	2. Chapter 2

Frankie had taken the boy to the hospital for evaluations while Jane waited for Maura. She was really good at waiting for Maura.

* * *

The woman's body was crumpled, fallen from a single gunshot to the head, execution style. There would be a bullet casing nearby, Frost was checking on that. But, why was the boy left uninjured? Her mind swims with images of him covered in his mother's blood and his own snot and tears. What was taking Maura so damn long?

"You stay in the car, Daryl," Maura climbs out of the automobile like she was walking onto a runway instead of a crime scene. She didn't have to ask twice, she barely had to ask once. Crime scenes were something Daryl had had enough of in this lifetime. Or the next…her nervous right hand fiddles with the silver and turquoise engagement ring on her left ring finger.

Maura pushes her way through the crowd, a 5'4'' battering ram made of Chanel. She spots Jane, or more appropriately, Jane's perfect _Gluteus Maximus_, first. "Jane?"

The dark haired woman looks up. The light catches her profile, and for a moment, Maura was looking at a painted angel. "What took you so long? We need an ID."

Maura shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't have time to bring Daryl home. We were having coffee on the commons."

Jane looks toward Maura's car. "How's she doing?"

"I'm afraid that she's hiding from something. From herself, from her fear, whatever it is, she's scared. And I'm scared for her." Maura snaps on her latex gloves and kneels beside the dead woman. She carefully examines the corpse, feeling her pockets to find any form of identification she can. "No ID. No purse. It was probably taken by one of the vagrants living nearby."

"What makes you think the perp didn't take it?" asks Jane, glancing around for the missing handbag.

"Circumstance," replies Maura, turning her attention to the victim's hands, "this woman was forced onto her knees and shot in the back of the head. If this were simply a robbery, then there would be more signs of a struggle, but look," she holds up one of the stiff arms to display its greying fingers. "No blood under the nails, or in the nail beds. No broken nails."

"No struggle," says Jane, kneeling beside Maura. Her breath catches as she makes a realization. "Do you think the boy was used as leverage?"

"It's probable."

* * *

Frankie watches the boy intently as doctors push IV needles into his skinny arms. He doesn't flinch, or do anything, for that matter. He just sits there, still and quiet as his mother. It was hard for Frankie to watch.

* * *

When Maura gets back into the car, Daryl tries to ignore the fact that her aunt had just touched a corpse. With shaking hands, the younger woman turns the radio up. Maura notices the quiver in the slender fingers as they slide over the volume dial. Daryl rests her head against the window, pale as a sheet. Maura knows better than to touch the girl. The ghost of the dead woman is still on her hands.

"How did things go with Jane?" asks the dark haired girl, still unable to bring her eyes to look at her aunt.

Maura scoffs. "Nothing more than usual. Why? Did you think after one conversation, I'd profess my love to her?"

"Not at all. I was just trying to make conversation," she spins her ring on her finger again. Maura notices.

"Have you two set a date, yet?"

"Not yet. By the look of it, we'll be engaged perpetually."

Maura chuckles. "She's just afraid. I know what it's like to be afraid."


	3. Chapter 3

Frankie knew he shouldn't have told Angela. But he did, anyway. She sat with the boy, who still hadn't told them his name, but Jane and Maura would be working on that now. The young John Doe wouldn't let Angela touch him. He wouldn't look at her, or acknowledge her. He was traumatized very severely by what he had to endure. But it seemed to comfort him, or at least, Frankie imagined it comforted him to listen to Angela go on and on about this and that. That was Angela: the world's mother. And this kid needed a mother more than any of them right now.

* * *

It's around 2 am when Jane finally gets home. She cracks open a beer, plops down on the couch, and takes a long, smooth draw from the bottle. She idly wondered if Maura would come over, but all they would do was sleep, and Maura probably preferred to do that in her own house. Plus, there was Daryl. She's been plagued by nightmares and insomnia since the attack, costing her a passing grade in most of her classes at Boston College.

Jane's phone dings. It's a text from Maura wishing her a good night (or morning, seeing as how it is so late that it's early). Jane smiles at the happy faced emoticon on the screen. Daryl must have taught her that. The last thing on her mind before Jane falls asleep is Maura's smile…her laugh…the way her eyes crinkle when she's amused or confused or worried…the last thing on Jane's mind before she falls asleep is an image of Maura.

* * *

"_Jane, we got a hit_," says Maura over the phone.

"I'll be right down," the tall sapling of a woman stands. "Frost, Maura's got an ID for our J.D."

"Alright, Frankie's bringing the kid to your mom's, so when you get his name, tell her."

"Why's he bringing him to Ma's?" Rizzoli puts her hands on her head, squeezing her hair through her fingers like play dough.

Frost shrugs, "I guess she talked it over with the hospital. They have her on the sheet as a qualified guardian, it's all legal."

"I guess they just thought I wasn't worth telling…"

"Now, Jane, it's not like that," says Korsak, pushing his glasses up his nose. Jane always thought he looked like Santa Clause had shaved his beard for summer and was re-growing it for the winter. "I'm sure they just thought you were too busy, you know, finding out who the kid was."

Jane rolls her eyes, throwing her hands up in defeat. She makes her way down to the lab, where Maura is seated at the desk, filling out paper work and rubbing her eyes. Jane smiles a bit, seeing the woman she loves, but feels a pang of worry at seeing her so distressed.

"You got a name?"

Maura looks up, and smiles. "Yes. Her name was Marisol Perez, age 25, had a six year old son named Draven. That's the boy we found."

"Yes, I'd assumed so," returns the ever sarcastic Jane Rizzoli.


End file.
